


Us

by Jashiku



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:43:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jashiku/pseuds/Jashiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short drabble about Grantaire being unsure about his relationship with Enjolras but realizing despite their differences that they are worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Us

For about the hundredth time since they had started dating two weeks ago, they had argued. Somehow, it always returned to politics, to differences in views, to "It could change" and "It certainly could not and will not". It might have helped some if Grantaire didn't open his mouth at all. But Grantaire was never known for his reticence, and dating a political activist, he'd had to comment on every little optimistic idea that Enjolras had, and it always ended the day with bitterness and alcohol.  
Grantaire began to doubt their relationship. Sure, it had always been this way, even before they started dating. The only improvement between them was the readiness to understand, the holding hands, the holding each other, but there seemed to always be a limit, at least to Grantaire's pessimistic mind. Just having Enjolras calling him his 'boyfriend' was too long a shot, and now that it was happening, it could only go downhill at any moment. 

His thoughts swirl in his head as he enters the building that holds his home-- a studio apartment that lately he had been sharing with Enjolras. Perhaps they were a mistake. Perhaps they'd been lying about the whole thing, and perhaps it'd be better for the both of them to call it off and pretend that the two weeks they had experienced never happened (never mind the fact that besides the fighting, they'd been able to openly stare at each other without feeling like it was strange).  
Grantaire unlocks the door to his studio, ready to retreat into one or a few bottles of beer that he has stashed in the fridge, then pauses because what he sees isn't an empty apartment. Enjolras is in his bed, his back resting against the wall, his knees tucked close to his chest, his face buried in a book. He's reading Wicked, probably taken from the stack of books Grantaire has in a corner (because he hasn't bothered to install a bookshelf yet).

The blonde doesn't look up to acknowledge him, so Grantaire says nothing. He keeps his shoes on in case things get awry again and if a quick exit needs to be made. He ought to say something, though, about them and perhaps their incompatibility, but he keeps his mouth shut and goes to the kitchen, which is at the side and takes about a third of the apartment. The only indicating divider from living/bedroom to kitchen is the island counter, and the floor going from carpet to linoleum. 

As Grantaire rummages for a beer in the fridge, he hears Enjolras clear his throat and pauses.

"This book's a little cheesy, even for you." he says with a voice that holds the potential of thunder and greatness, and Grantaire does a mental fist pump because he knew Enjolras had been about to speak. He just knew it. Soon after, Grantaire scoffs because he can't help himself, grabs a beer and stands to look at the blonde over the counter.

"Are we comparing book tastes now? If you don't like it, put it down. No one asked you to read it." He's a little defensive, he knows, but he feels like he has the right. At the same time, he's hoping Enjolras doesn't hold it against him. There's a smile on Grantaire's face that lacks humor, then he uses his teeth to pry the cap off his beer bottle. 

Enjolras peers at the brunette with the toque over his book, chin tucked in but eyes rolled upwards. He lowers the book to rest it on his lap. "But I like it." 

Grantaire touches the bottle's lips to his, but nothing more, because he thinks Enjolras sounds genuine, even careful, and this intrigues him. He'd had his guard up, but as Enjolras doesn't seem like he wants to fight, Grantaire takes whatever bait had been thrown his way, and treads the waters.

"So... how far are you into it?" He lowers the bottle from his face and approaches Enjolras, then sits at the edge of the bed. Enjolras looks willing to talk, but not about them it seems.

"The goat teacher, Gillamond, dies. Galinda's changed to Glinda. Exciting things are about to happen." he answers, and Grantaire wonders if there's a storm brewing in that voice of his and how on earth can he sound so casual yet hold such power in his tone.

Grantaire is tempted to take a swig from his bottle, but remains holding it between his legs. "A lot of politics in there." Grantaire begins. And wishes he had taken that swig after all. As he'd already begun, he didn't see any way (or any point) of stopping. "I'm not surprised you like it."

Enjolras gives him a narrow-eyed look, then lowers his eyes to the green book again. "I'm surprised you have it, then. What with all the change taking place in it."

And just then, the mood seemed to drop as quickly as it had enlightened. Grantaire lets out a chuckle before the acid in his chest settles, then shrugs. "This just goes to show that improvement can only happen in fiction." He'd like to stop now, but this is Grantaire, and he can't help himself.

The words hang there a moment before Enjolras practically spits, "Given the effort, anything could be improved or changed." Briefly, just briefly, his eyes flick up to meet Grantaire's and the brunette finds himself holding his breath. "Of course, you wouldn't understand. You don't put effort into anything, except opening bottles with your teeth."

And this hurts more than it should. The brunette finds himself back in a time when the political activist didn't look at him for any reason other than to question his existence and why he was ruining his debates and his life. But Grantaire doesn't show that. He scoffs instead, and puts on an offended look that's more plastic than flesh, and stands from the bed. "A convenient skill, just so you know." He doesn't mention his artistic skills because it's all details at this point. He holds up his bottle as if he were declaring a toast to the blonde.

Grantaire catches the way Enjolras's lips press together, how his eyebrows furrow after his blue eyes roll in exasperation, how good Enjolras looks even with a look of extreme disapproval. His lips part to let out a sigh, and Grantaire feels his insides turn to liquid, which only means that guilt was easy-coming. The bottle in his grip feels like it weighs a ton, and his own lips itch with desire to come in contact with something hard and cold because in his mind that means life will get easier, and this strain they are in right now would disappear momentarily.

But Grantaire only stands there, looking at him. The God sitting on his bed, reading Wicked. His own personal Apollo. And he thinks, this isn't fair. This didn't need to happen, and doesn't need to keep happening. He doesn't want to lose the blond because of his conflicting views. They had a whole lot of other things in common besides that. So instead of kicking the man out (as if he could) or storming off, he takes a different approach.

Enjolras hasn't moved, and if he didn't move now, then perhaps, Grantaire hoped, he wouldn't move for a while. Not yet. 

The brunette sets his neglected beer on to the counter, climbs into the bed, and looks straight at the avid reader. He's practically straddling Enjolras's feet. 

"Us." he says simply, and that makes Enjolras look up, the strike of his impossible blues almost rendering the avid drinker speechless. Almost. He continues on when Enjolras gives him a questioning tilt of the head. "I wanna work on us. I want... I want to give us... a little more effort. You know, more effort than I put into anything else. (As much as I put into art because that shit takes time and patience for perfection, and even then perfection is a long shot, but still.)"

Enjolras hasn't budged, had done nothing except set the book back down on his lap. Grantaire leans forward, folds his arms on the other's knees, and rests his weight there. He smiles a smile filled with humor, and joy, and teasing because Enjolras is smiling at him with approval now. Grantaire feels a hand on his cheek and closes his eyes when he sees Enjolras move forward, so when their lips meet it feels like fireworks and warmth and butterflies. Grantaire forgives him instantly.

"I'll do the same." Enjolras replies softly, apology hitting the edge of his words, though he doesn't say the word in full. "I'd put up with you for us." And that night there are no loud noises, no hostility, no bitterness, and no alcohol. Only the silence of their company and the hope that even if one of them is a pessimist, that they can both get better together.

End

**Author's Note:**

> I'd drawn fanart, then wanted it to have some context! http://jashikuarts.tumblr.com/post/47628054163/series-les-miserables-modern-au-rating-pg


End file.
